


I loved you and I should have said it

by Ardelier



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Finally, I knew he was in Russia, Smutty but not like hardcore, Spoilers for the trailer??, They bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardelier/pseuds/Ardelier
Summary: He just looks at her the way he’s looked at her so many times, that soft-eyed stare that she had wanted to ignore back in the summer. Now her heart kicks up a gear because seeing him again, seeing that look again, fuck, how many people get this many chances?
Relationships: Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	I loved you and I should have said it

**Author's Note:**

> They'd better smooch in season four.

For a split second when he gets back, when he’s finally home and they’re starting to breathe again, Joyce thinks that Hopper must hate her.

The thought lasts just long enough for her to dismiss it, because they’ve already shared their tearful reunion, and he hugged her so hard for so long that Joyce’s ribs still feel a little squeezed. Even so, the presence of that thought is enough that when he finally kisses her, Joyce is a little surprised.

He’d found her leaning against the rails of her front deck, sipping a lukewarm Coke. The house was quiet—kids back in school, Owens and his team gone. Their chaotic lives had calmed some, and Joyce wasn’t sure what to do with it. Or with Hopper. Their interactions since his return had been buffered by people or buffered by bigger fish to fry like reversing his death. Today it was really just the two of them.

She sips her drink as he ambles out dressed in loose jeans and a t shirt. His scruffy face is back but his hair is taking its time, only now discernible as something other than a shadow of stubble. Joyce’s hands flex around the can. He’s so fucking handsome, even still.

Hop eases up beside her, dropping his forearms (they’re getting some colour too, she notes) on the rail, and bumps his hip against hers. This draws a smile out of her, one she flashes at him while bumping hips back. Hop looks about to speak, mouth partially open, and then he doesn’t. He just looks at her the way he’s looked at her so many times, that soft-eyed stare that she had wanted to ignore back in the summer. Now her heart kicks up a gear because seeing him again, seeing that look again, _fuck_ , how many people get this many chances?

“Hop,” she starts, not sure where she’s going. That half-formed thought rears up that she’s projecting, that he wants nothing to do with her, and so Joyce is surprised when he shifts and his hand comes up and rests on her face, and instead of letting her finish whatever she was trying to stay, Hop leans down and kisses her.

His mouth is firm and coaxing and his hand is rough from months of hard labour. Her surprise causes her to hesitate for half a beat, and then Joyce leans into the kiss with a hammering heart, turning into him and knocking her Coke off the railing. Hop breaks their kiss to look at the can, adorably bewildered like he doesn’t know what came over him, and Joyce is done with the idea that he might walk this back, so she tangles her hands in the front of his shirt and tugs him down to her again.

“Oh,” he breaths as she presses a kiss to the side of his mouth. His arms curl around her as Joyce kisses him again and again, the thread of her desire drawing taut. She hums against his mouth and runs her tongue along his bottom lip. Hopper gasps and a thrill runs hot up Joyce’s spine. Her heart is flooded by a beat of finally, finally, _finally_.

He’s clutching at her like he did when they reunited, arms wrapped firm around her body, hoisting her up so they’re the same height. Except this time she’s found the pulse in his neck with her lips and he’s growling and nipping her ear. Joyce kisses his neck and jaw and finally his mouth again, letting out a moan when his tongue strokes over hers. He drops one hand and then the other to her ass, pressing her hips into his. He’s hard and Joyce feels that distinct, delicious throb course through her when Hop squeezes her ass and grinds his pelvis into hers.

“Joyce, fuck, I—” Hop’s voice is strangled and he’s panting, glassy-eyed like he’s awestruck. He kisses her again, sweetly, and then groans when her thighs flex on his hips. “Bedroom?”

Joyce nods. He lets her down and her hands snake under his shirt, finding his belt and tugging at it. Hop laughs, looking amazed, like he’s never thought that this would happen, that _Joyce_ would be the one leading them through the house, into the bedroom where he’s recuperated for the last month, where they spent long nights lying chastely beside each other in the dark.

The backs of Joyce’s knees hit the edge of the bed and she falls backward with Hopper’s arms still wrapped around her. He kisses her neck and runs a hand down her side, fingers skimming beneath her shirt. There’s a confidence in his movements but also the odd tremble, head shake, and whispered “Goddamn” against her skin. Hop pulls her shirt over her head, straddles her thighs, breathing hard and grinning as he leans back down. Impatient, Joyce palms his cock through his jeans and Hopper gasps and laughs, biting her shoulder. His hands cover her breasts and the callouses on his fingers running light over her nipples makes Joyce arch her back, wild for more pressure. Hop’s mouth is a brand on her skin, kissing along her collarbone, down her sternum.

“Fuuuuuck,” Joyce hisses as Hop takes a nipple into his mouth and flicks his tongue. Her hands scrabble at the back of his head, and her hips bounce off the bed, seeking contact. Hopper licks and sucks, scraping his beard along her skin, propped up on one arm while his other strokes down her hip and then up her inner thigh. Joyce shortcircuits when his hand presses against her, the pressure making her throb. Hop’s mouth kisses a trail down her belly as he slides off the bed and to his knees on the floor. He holds her hips and pauses. When Joyce looks at him, swollen-mouthed and flushed, breathing hard, the look she gets back is _ravenous_.

“I need to taste you,” Hop grits out, flexing his fingers. He kisses her still-clothed knee. “Please.”

“Yes,” Joyce nods frantically, lifting her hips so he can pull the last of her clothes off. Her whole body radiates heat. Hop drags his mouth up her thigh, circling around where she needs him most. _So long I’ve been waiting so long please oh please just_ —and then he drops down, pushing her thighs open and running his tongue over her. Joyce gasps and swears, bucking as Hopper’s tongue strokes over her in long, slow sweeps. When she starts to beg Hop hums and increases his pace, flicking short, fast circles. His fingers dip into her, teasing at first, just a suggestion of pressure, and then he presses up, curving, reaching a spot that makes her body sing. A wave builds. Joyce’s movements turn frantic, hips surging, until the edge arrives and she freezes as the crescendo hits its peak and floods her body with a pleasure so deep her thighs seize around Hopper’s head, holding him in place until she goes limp.

He takes the same path back up, kissing her thighs and hips and tummy and chest, back up to her mouth where she tastes sea water on his tongue. He pauses long enough to shuck off his shirt and jeans and boxers, moves over her. Joyce kisses him hard on the mouth, strokes his shoulders before digging her hands into his back and tilting her hips up. The head of his cock brushes against her and all Joyce has time to say is _more_ before Hop pushes in. He thrusts and Joyce feels an aftershock of her early orgasm, her body ringing with need. He’s trying to be restrained by Joyce grips his biceps, sucks his lower lip, hips rising roughly to meet his pace. Hop growls and swears and grabs her thigh, moving faster and harder against her. The leveraged angle churns another wave inside of her and when Joyce comes again she shakes with the force of it. Hop’s breath hitches and his shoulders shudder, coming with one final press up hard and deep into her.

Joyce kisses him before he shifts and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling in a daze. She can’t help but beam at him, and eventually he beams back, moving his arm up so she can come rest against his chest. Later they will talk about this. For now, in the warm glow of a mid spring morning, it is enough that Hopper tugs her quilt around them both, presses a kiss to her shoulder, and holds her firm against his chest.

They are both home.


End file.
